"Those wig-makers are sad villains. This is what the habit of making curls leads to!--What proposition have you made to this rose-bud?"

"In the first place, I represented myself as a Polish n.o.ble, the Comte de Globeski."

"You sinner! to presume to take the t.i.tle of count!--What next?"

"I told the girl that, if she chose, I would put her in the way of making a very neat little sum. As she thought at first that I was in love with her, she answered that I was too ugly."

"That's good, I like that outspokenness."

"I rea.s.sured her by telling her that I wasn't talking about myself, but about a very comely young man, whom, for family reasons, we desired to become amorous of her."

"I adore family reasons! Go on."

"My pretty working-girl did not seem to have a very alert imagination; however, she almost understood. She's an Alsatian, and her name is Chichette Chichemann. She has a slight accent, but it is not at all disagreeable and will pa.s.s for a Polish accent, especially as Polish is very like German. I have an appointment with her for this evening; we will take her to a cafe, and there we will agree on our movements; you will see that she is extremely pretty, and that she has a little virginlike way about her that is most deceptive. When she is dressed as a Polish countess, the young marquis must inevitably fall madly in love with her."

"We will hope so, and then we must act in all haste, for Monfreville is taking Cherubin into society now. Our real marchionesses and countesses will find the youngster very attractive; and he, in his turn, will fall in love with one of them; and if his heart is once fairly caught----"

"We should be our expenses out of pocket!"

"Bah! that won't make any difference, if your damsel is really pretty; there's always room for a new love in the human heart. At eighteen years and a half, I could have loved all four quarters of the globe.--Attention! I think the flock is coming out."

As he spoke, several young women in little caps and modest ap.r.o.ns came from the dark pa.s.sage; some of them were soon joined by young men who were waiting for them; others walked away alone. Darena and Poterne, stationed on the other side of the street, let them all pa.s.s. The last of all leaped the gutter with agility and walked up to Poterne, who tried to impart an amiable tone to his voice as he said:

"Did you recognize me, Mademoiselle Chichette?"

"I should say so; you look like a coal man with your big hat."

Darena laughed aloud, and the girl stepped back, saying:

"Ah! there's someone with you, Messie Globeski?"

"Yes, an intimate friend of mine, who is employed to manage the affair I spoke to you about. We will go somewhere and talk it over."

"Yes, my dear child," said Darena, taking the girl's arm and pa.s.sing it through his, "we will go and have a chat and a gla.s.s of punch. Do you like punch?"

"Oh, yes! ever so much!" the Alsatian replied, looking at Darena.

"Very good; I see that we shall be able to come to an understanding! I am not quite so ugly as monsieur; take my arm, I shall frighten you less than he will. Is there a decent cafe hereabout? Let us go to Rue Saint-Denis. I haven't looked at you yet, but I am told that you are enchanting; however, I must satisfy myself. Here's a drug store."

Darena led the little hat-maker in front of the drug store, and, placing her under one of those blue globes which cast a sickly light into the street, he scrutinized her, then exclaimed:

"Excellent! Very pretty, on my word! And if we are like this, seen through a colored bottle, what shall we be in a moment? Here's a cafe, let's go in."

The gentlemen entered the cafe with Mademoiselle Chichette; they chose a table in the corner, so that they might talk with less constraint, and Darena said to the waiter:

"A bowl of rum punch--the very best that can be made."

Poterne made a wry face and whispered to Darena:

"The little one would be perfectly satisfied with beer; it isn't worth while to----"

"What's that? We are growing stingy, are we? Poterne, my friend, you know that I don't like that sort of thing."

"Don't call me Poterne, I tell you."

"Then be quiet, and don't annoy me with your foolish reflections."

Mademoiselle Chichette had taken her place at the table, where she seemed to pay no heed at all to anything that was said by the gentlemen who were with her. The Alsatian seemed about twenty years of age; she was very small, but she had a very becoming measure of _embonpoint_; her face was round, with dark eyes, not very large, but well-shaped and surmounted by gracefully arched light eyebrows; a tiny mouth, pretty teeth, a plump little chin adorned by a faint dimple, chubby cheeks, and an extremely fresh complexion combined to form a charming village girl's face; but there was no character to it, no expression in her eyes; always the same placidity and the same smile.

Darena scrutinized the Alsatian anew, then said to Poterne under his breath:

"She's very pretty, and as fresh as a rose. She looks respectable; in fact, she has rather a stupid air; but that will pa.s.s for innocence. Do you know, you have made a genuine find; when she is handsomely dressed, Cherubin cannot possibly help falling in love with her.--Ah! here's the punch--let's have a drink! Drink, young Chichette. Alsatians generally have a well-developed gullet."

Mademoiselle Chichette smiled and took a gla.s.s, saying:

"Oh, yes! I don't object."

"The accent is a little p.r.o.nounced," muttered Darena. "However, it doesn't matter, it's Polish--that's understood.--Some macaroons, waiter!

What! you see that we have a lady with us, and you forget the macaroons!

Haven't you any? If not, you should make some."

"I have sent for some, monsieur."

"That's lucky for you. Meanwhile, give us some cakes, or gingersnaps--whatever you have."

During this dialogue Poterne heaved a succession of stifled sighs. At last a dish was brought and placed by Darena in front of the young work-girl, and he himself stuffed himself with cakes as if he had not dined. Whereupon Monsieur Poterne also decided to attack the plate, and to devour all the gingersnaps.

"You see, Comte de Globeski," said Darena, in a serio-comic tone, "that I did well to order these trifles. But now let us talk business, and come to the point.--Mademoiselle Chichette, you have one of the prettiest faces to be met with in Paris or the suburbs. We desire a young man to fall violently in love with you. That will be easy to bring about; but we wish his pa.s.sion to encounter obstacles. Why? That does not concern you; the essential thing is that you should do exactly what you are told to do. In the first place, you are Monsieur le Comte de Globeski's wife--consequently you are the Comtesse de Globeska. That is the usual custom in Poland: the man's name ends in _i_ and his wife's in _a_."

"Oh, no! I want to be my little pays's wife! I've promised him."

"Sacrebleu! this is only a joke; it's part of the comedy we want you to play."

"Oh, yes, yes! a joke! I'll do it."

"You are the Comtesse de Globeska, then, a Polish refugee; and your friend here--this gentleman who is so ugly--is horribly jealous; stuff all that in your head. We will give you a pretty costume; that can't offend you; and you will live with monsieur for a few days, except at night; but with honorable intentions!"

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"And when the young man is dead in love, you may love him too, if you please; in fact, he is well worth the trouble--he's a charming fellow.

You don't dislike charming fellows, do you?"

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"And for all this you shall have twenty-five napoleons; in other words, five hundred francs."

"That's too much! it's too much!" whispered Poterne, nudging Darena, "she would have helped us for two or three louis."

"Yes, you shall have five hundred francs," continued Darena, "six hundred, in fact, if the affair goes off well. I will guarantee you that amount, and monsieur here will pay it.--Isn't that rather pleasant, eh?"